


Your Girl

by fid_gin



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fid_gin/pseuds/fid_gin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kind stranger stumbles across Daryl and Beth, gives them a place to crash for the night, and inspires them to take a closer look at their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, well I had intended this to be a short little thing, and instead this nearly 4,000 word smut-fest poured out of me all in one day, so clearly I was inspired somehow. Post- _Alone_ , Beth was never kidnapped, they're still travelling together...you know the drill. There's an OC in here, but give her a chance - she rocks. Also contains a blink-and-you'll-miss-it scene inspired by a scene from _Stranger Things_...not a plot point or anything, I just want to give credit where credit's due.

The old woman found them just in time.

Beth had only been asleep for fifteen minutes or so when the snap of a twig awoke her. She sat bolt upright, reaching for her knife, and opened her eyes to the sight of Daryl staring down his crossbow at a thin but sturdy-looking woman with gray hair who was pointing a pistol right back at him.

“Son,” she said in a voice that was weary but strong, “you're protecting your girl and I understand that, but if you don't get that goddamned thing out of my face I will shoot you right through the eye.”

Daryl's aim did not waiver. “Not happening,” he said. Beth was still stuck back on being called Daryl's 'girl', but considering he'd been providing for and protecting her these weeks since the prison fell, she supposed that description fit as well as any. It was kind-of nice, actually.

“Fair enough,” the older woman replied. “Don't suppose it makes any difference that I came to warn you: there's an almighty big group of creeps headed right for you two – be here in about five minutes, 'less you move your ass.” And now Beth could hear a low, keening echo: the sound of hundreds of dead, wailing voices approaching in the distance like a wall of wind.

He seemed to consider his options for a moment, then Daryl lowered his weapon and the woman holstered hers.

“Now,” she said, “I got a cabin 'bout two miles away and across the creek so those things stay away most the time. Got a spare bed, you two look like you could use a night's sleep, so you can have it if you can keep up.” In a swirl of long, gray hair, she disappeared into the trees.

Beth jumped to her feet, prepared to follow, but Daryl held out his arm to stop her. “Could be a trap.”

He had a point, but... “Where else can we go?” Beth had to raise her voice now over the din of impending walkers. Daryl nodded and shouldered his crossbow, and they took off running after the stranger.

**

“Name's May,” the old woman called back over her shoulder. She hadn't been joking about the two of them needing to keep up with her; Beth figured she had to be in her late sixties or maybe even early seventies but she made her way through the dark forest as sure as Daryl himself. _She snapped that twig because she **wanted** us to know she was there,_ Beth thought to herself. It was a comforting thought. “You two got names?”

“Beth,” Beth answered. Daryl said nothing.

“Strong silent type, eh? I like it!” May chuckled, and Beth smirked over at Daryl for getting flirted with by an old lady. He scowled and cocked his chin forward in an unmistakable _shut-up-keep-walking_ gesture.

“How'd you find us?” Beth thought to ask. May glanced over her shoulder at them.

“You're camping on my land,” she said, sounding almost offended. “I know every inch of it, you think I'm not going to realize when I've got trespassers?”

Despite the absurdity of being called out for trespassing these days, Beth was still chagrined. “Sorry.” But May scoffed.

“I'll get over it,” she said. “Rather have living people than those rotten bastards, anyway.”

May's “creek” turned out to be more of a river which came up to Beth's middle – she was shocked that the skinny older woman slogged through it like it was nothing, when Beth had to hang on to Daryl to keep from being swept away. Even in the Georgia heat the cold water was shocking, and by the time they made it to the other side and the shape of May's cabin rose up just where she'd said it would be, Beth decided she didn't _care_ if it was a trap as long as they let her change into something dry before they killed her.

As if reading her mind, May turned to Beth as they stepped inside. “I got some of my daughter's old clothes in the spare room, you're welcome to change into something dry.” She lit a candle and gave Beth the once over from head to foot. “They'll be too big on you, but there you go.”

“Th-thanks,” Beth chattered, and walked toward the back of the cabin with another lit candle that May handed her. As she left the room, she heard Daryl speak for the first time since they'd left their camp.

“Where's your daughter?”

“Where do you think?” May snapped back at him, and Beth cringed.

Peeling off her wet jeans stopped her teeth chattering immediately, and she pulled off her underwear, wrung them out as best she could, then put them back on while she flipped through the folded clothes in the large dresser at the foot of the bed. The very _small_ bed that May had told her she could share with Daryl, her mind registered. Beth warmed up a little more at that thought, but then she shook her head at her own stupidity. He'd almost certainly sleep on the floor, _if_ he decided to sleep at all.

The older woman had been right: the T-shirt she selected was at least 4 sizes too big, swum on her body and hung down past her thighs, but it was better than nothing. At the very least, it'd make a good nightgown.

“Susan was a big girl...she was trying to lose weight, when it happened.” The voice came from the bedroom door, and Beth jumped – she hadn't bothered to shut the door since it was near pitch black apart from the candle light. She hadn't expected to be followed.

“This will do just fine,” Beth assured May with a smile. “We can't thank you enough, really.” She looked down at the baggy T-shirt she now wore. “How old was your daughter?”

May waved her hand. “Oh, much older than you, don't worry. It doesn't bother me, you wearing her things.”

Beth was surprised that May had guessed that that was _exactly_ what she'd been concerned about. She didn't want to cause the other woman pain by parading around in her (presumably) deceased daughter's clothes. “Is she dead?” she asked quietly, and May nodded. “My dad's dead. And my mom, and brother. And maybe my sister, too, I don't know.” Her voice caught in her throat, and then May had crossed to her and had her in a tight hug. Either Beth reminded her more of her daughter than she'd said, or that motherly instinct just kicked in regardless.

“I killed Sue myself, after she turned,” May said, gently but firmly patting Beth's back. “She's buried in back of the cabin. She's at peace.” She pulled back and took Beth by the shoulders, shook her just a tiny bit. “And your _family's_ at peace, too, because they know you're still here. _Remember_ that.”

Beth nodded, not trusting her voice enough to speak. She wiped her eyes, then glanced back toward the front of the house. “Where's Daryl?”

“Oh, is _that_ my new boyfriend's name?” May's grin took about ten years off of her face. It was infectious, and Beth grinned back at her. “He stepped outside, _he_ said to 'take a piss,' but I suspect he's scouting around to make sure I don't have any associates waiting to rob and murder you two.” Beth giggled: that was almost certainly _exactly_ what Daryl was doing.

“Anyroad,” May said, “this old woman's headed to bed. Tell _Daryl_ to lock up after he's done snooping around.” Her smirk was back. “I take the battery out of my hearing aid at night, just so's you know. Got to make this one last, no telling when I'll find another. So don't worry about noise.”

It took Beth a moment to follow what she was saying, but when she got it she could feel blood rise in her cheeks. “Oh...we're not actually...like that.”

May sniffed. “Well, don't tell _him_ that. Before I spoke up at your camp he was watchin' you sleep like you was some sort of treasure he was guarding.” She left without another word, leaving Beth shocked and a little elated.

**

She got nervous waiting for Daryl to return – not only because, well, you _always_ got nervous now when you were separated from your companion for any reason, but also because she had no idea what to expect when he got back. Had May also told Daryl about her non-functioning hearing aid and all that implied? Had he really been watching Beth sleep?

She should feel weirded out, Beth knew (what if she snored? or drooled?), but she didn't...she felt watched over. Cared about. 'Guarded' was the word May had used, and that sounded good. Sounded...sweet.

But what if that wasn't what it meant? What if Daryl was only watching over her because that's the kind of thing that Daryl _did_? Maybe he'd do the same if it'd been Glenn that he escaped with, or Carl, or anyone else.

She laid down on top of the blankets, stared at the ceiling for a moment then got up again.

Things had definitely changed between them since the night they got drunk together and burned that shack to the ground, since the funeral home when he'd been about to say...something, and then they'd had to make a run for it just like they always did. Since then, he'd been both more open and more guarded at the same time. He'd respond to questions with words instead of grunts, he'd even contribute to conversation once in awhile. She'd even seen him smile once or twice. But, he was also careful not to touch her: once she'd reached for his hand for the first time since they'd stood in front of that grave together, and he'd recoiled like she'd burned him. Beth hadn't read too much into it, because you couldn't read too much into why Daryl did _anything_ , but now she wondered...

She was just considering going to look for him when she heard the front door open, close, and then the setting of about ten different locks. He hesitated at the doorway to the bedroom, like he was waiting to be invited in. “Place seems alright,” he said. “There's a grave out back, but I think...”

“It's her daughter's,” Beth finished for him. Daryl continued hovering.

“You good?” She could have sworn he sounded nervous.

“Yeah, I found a shirt,” Beth answered, gesturing down at her T-shirt/dress. “Are _you_ good?”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly, shucking his jacket and laying down his bow. “Place is locked up tight, I laid some alarms just in case. I'll take the floor.”

She expected as much. “Sure.” He whisked a quilt off the bed and laid it out, then stretched out with one arm up under his head for a pillow. Only extremely disappointed, Beth blew out the candle, crawled onto the bed and shut her eyes, knowing that sleep was a long way off.

In the weeks they had traveled together, Beth had learned that Daryl was the type of person who, once they had decided to fall asleep, simply closed their eyes and did so. However, he was also a _light_ sleeper – no doubt a learned trait from years spent outdoors – so, when after ten minutes or so of agonizing silence had passed, Beth spoke up and said “Could you just come up here?” she knew he heard her.

A beat passed, then two, then she heard him rise and felt the bed dip with his weight. He laid on his side at the edge of the mattress so as not to brush up against her, but Beth scooted back until she was spooned against his front. After a moment, he carefully draped his arm over her.

She was suddenly very conscious of the rise and fall of her rib cage as she breathed, and Daryl's arm which rose and fell with it. Her T-shirt had shifted when she'd laid down so that her midriff was now uncovered, and when Daryl's fingers grazed her stomach the rise and fall of her breathing quickened. Beth knew he wasn't asleep and felt like she should say something, something to acknowledge the turn their day had taken. “May said she thinks our families are at peace,” she said, not sure why she chose that subject but going with it. She left the 'our' ambiguous, because while May had not specifically been referring to Daryl earlier, Beth was sure if she'd known about _his_ loss she would have said the same thing.

“You believe that?” Daryl said finally. His fingers were tracing lazily up and down her belly, and Beth tried not to move or do anything that might call attention to it and possibly make him stop.

“I do,” she answered firmly. “I know they'd be happy I'm with you.”

He gave a disbelieving sort of snort, and she rolled over on to her back to see his face. Now that her eyes had gotten used to the dark she could just make him out, propped up on one elbow, shaggy hair, permanent scowl, expression unreadable as she wrapped her fingers around his where they still lay across her stomach. Then, she began to push his hand downward. He froze.

“Beth...?” he breathed, but it came out sounding like a question.

“It's okay,” she whispered. “I want you to.” She rocked her hips up against his hand for emphasis, but while he didn't take his hand away, he didn't move it either: his fingers lay splayed across her abdomen, hovering like Daryl himself had in the doorway moments before. “Why don't you want to touch me?” she asked, seizing this intimate moment to confront the question.

“Is that what you think?” Echoing their argument from that day at the 'shine shack.

“I don't know,” Beth answered.

He looked so tired, like he'd been carrying some excruciating, unidentifiable weight for longer than he could remember. Beth thought back to when he first came to her daddy's farm, he hadn't looked like that. He'd been young, arrogant, cocky...and she liked him better now, but she'd never forgive the world for everything it had put him through, both before the Turn and after. “I want,” he said slowly, “to do right by you.”

“You do,” she said. “You will.”

Daryl's fingers ran along the top of her underwear, back and forth...hovering. Waiting. Beth wiggled against him, encouraging him. His face was so close to hers now, she could smell cigarettes on his breath; he must have snuck a smoke when he was outside. She lifted her head to brush her lips against his, not quite a kiss but close, and she felt his lips purse slightly, chasing hers. “You're killin' me, you know that,” he said, his voice a low rumble. It occurred to her that she could tell him he didn't need to keep his voice down, but Beth decided she liked his voice like this – soft and raspy, almost a purr. Or a growl.

His callused, thick fingers felt clumsy when they scrabbled and slid beneath the elastic waistband of her panties, but any finesse he was missing was quickly forgotten when he slid two long digits into her slick heat and found her swollen clit immediately. Beth moaned and pressed against his hand, and he buried his face in her neck, sucked and bit at her skin as he continued to work her, pausing his rubbing now and then to thrust his fingers deep inside her, fuck her with them, fill her as he mumbled sexy filth against her throat.

She was going to come quickly if he continued like that, and once that happened she knew this would end and it would be just something that happened once. Not willing to let that be the case, Beth grabbed his hand and brought it up to her mouth to kiss it (and she could _smell_ herself on his fingers _ohmygod_ ) before rolling over on top of him.

The hardness pressing up against her told her that he _did_ want this, for him and not just to appease her. She rotated her hips, grinding against that hardness, and Daryl gasped and grabbed her waist, not stopping her but _guiding_ her. But when she went to unbutton his pants, he stopped her.

“Don't,” he said, sounding a little panicked. Beth swallowed.

“You don't want to?”

“Didn't say that,” he answered, pulling her forward by the wrists so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. “I'd love to bend you over right about now,” he said in that growl of his, searching for her lips again, and Beth felt like her insides might just liquefy and run down the inside of her thighs. “But that ain't what you need.”

She sat back on him, pouting. “What do you think I need?”

He gave a sort-of laying-down shrug. “Not some old piece of shit loser.”

Beth resisted the urge to smack him. “If you mean _you_ , then yeah, that's exactly what I need. You make me feel...”

“Like you got a chaperon” he finished for her.

“ _No_ ,” she insisted. Beth searched for the words to explain how Daryl made her feel...safe, protected, revered-but-empowered, all of those things. “May called me your girl – that's how you make me feel. You gotta stop thinking of yourself as the worst thing that could happen to someone, 'cause you're not. The opposite, actually.” She rolled her hips against him again and he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose.

“You keep that up this is gonna be over before it starts,” he said.

She stopped her grinding, but kept pressure there. “Make me your girl, Daryl.” This time when she fumbled with his button and zipper he didn't stop her. She lowered his pants just enough to free his cock, rose up on one knee at a time to climb out of her underwear and finally sank down onto him. It hurt a little – thinking back in her mind, this was probably only her third or fourth time, and she couldn't remember when the last time was just that it was with Zach...so, awhile. But she went slowly, letting herself get used to him inch by inch until she had taken him completely.

“God _dammit_ , girl,” Daryl bit out, sounding almost pained.

“Is that okay?” she asked, not moving, feeling him twitch inside of her.

“You fuckin' serious? You feel...” He didn't finish that sentence, because Beth started rising and falling, riding him, barely moving just enough to create the friction they both needed. 

Now that she had adjusted to him, that he was wet with her moisture, that he was rising to meet her, Beth could feel how well they fit together...if he'd been any larger it would have been too much, but as it was he filled her perfectly, hit all the right spots inside of her. He'd gotten her close with his fingers already, and even though it had never happened this way, with her being on top and with this being with _Daryl_ Beth knew that she was going to come just from this, with no other help. It was really going to happen.

Suddenly she was _real_ relieved May had told her about her hearing aid battery.

He still had his hands on her hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. _Good_ , she thought. She wanted him to bruise her, mark her...she wanted to be _his_.

“Beth,” Daryl breathed. “I'm close.”

“Just one more minute,” she said through gritted teeth. So close, now. She thought about the day he took her away from the prison. She thought about hiding, sweating in the trunk of that car with him to escape a herd that night. She thought about the way he threw darts into that picture, and how he looked holding his crossbow. And she thought about him angry, shouting at her, holding her back against him while he fired bolts into that walker, and for some reason that was what she needed and she was coming on top of him, throwing her head back and crying out like she thought women only did in dirty movies like the one she'd snuck out of Shawn's closet and watched that one time. She was still in the final throes when Daryl pushed her off of him and came in spurts across his stomach where his shirt had ridden up and his bare stomach and a sprinkling of hair were visible. It was as messy as that same porno movie and by far the hottest thing she'd ever seen.

Collapsing, breathless, off to the side of him, Beth thought that she wouldn't mind asking for one of those cigarettes that Daryl had squirreled away somewhere – she felt sore, tired, happy and a little anxious now that it was over. Had it been okay for him? Would he regret it, and would it ever happen again?

“Jesus, you're loud,” he said suddenly, startling her. Daryl wiped off his stomach with a corner of the sheet they lay on, then settled back down. “Have to cover your mouth next time.”

It felt only natural for her to curl up against him, throw her leg over him and drape her arm across his chest. “Is there going to be a next time?” Her voice was sleepy and teasing.

“You play your cards right,” he answered, teasing her right back, tracing his fingers up and down her arm. “Besides...you're my girl, ain't you?”

**

May saw them off in the morning. She thought about trying to convince them to stay – partially for their own good, but mostly because she'd been lonely ever since Sue died. But they didn't seem like the type to stay in one place too long, and from the looks they were givin' each other over their slim breakfast of canned peaches and protein bars, May guessed they'd discovered last night that they were gonna need a whole lot more privacy in the days to come. She was glad: the world was short a lot of things these days, but love was the biggest one. The one whose loss was felt most acutely.

So she gave them blankets, and some cans of food (what she could spare, which wasn't much), and a jug of water from her well. As they walked off, she saw the girl tentatively reach out and take the man's hand, saw him glance over at her and then thread his fingers through hers.

May smiled to herself, then went inside, locking the door behind her.


End file.
